


At Your Service

by letitrainathousandflames



Series: Clone Smut [4]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Dogma is a cinnamon roll and any girl would be hella lucky to date him, F/M, and getting some, featuring the BEAUTIFUL au where dogma was readmitted into the 501st please and thank you, hell yeah, just dogma on a date, lets not talk about umbara? sure you got it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 05:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14206437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letitrainathousandflames/pseuds/letitrainathousandflames
Summary: You're dating a lovely clone trooper named Dogma. After a fun night out, you two get back to your place and things gets hot, and Dogma makes it even hotter asking you to take the lead.





	At Your Service

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissTeaVee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTeaVee/gifts).



> Gift fic made with all the love to my dear friend TV. Hope you like it, dear!

Fives was laughing his ass off, and the alcohol wasn’t even to blame this time as they got back from the 79’s.

“This is the best day of my life! Oh my stars! Hardcase, call Kix, I think I might go into cardiac arrest for laughing so hard!”

Hardcase was laughing to, and so was Jesse. Tup was the only one struggling to keep a straight face in solidarity to his batcher’s embarrassment.

“I shouldn’t have told you guys.” Dogma said in all honesty as they finally got to their dorms back in the base.

“So now” Fives said as he plopped on his bunk bed without taking off his shoes “Little Dogma is dating a civvy girl. Oh my, you kids grow so fast these days.”

Dogma sat down to take his shoes off because, unlike Fives and Hardcase who just dropped on their beds still on their armors, he wasn’t a drunk mess.

“You’re only a year older than me, di’kut.”

“Hey, I’m your superior officer, trooper.”

“Right you are, ARC Trooper di’kut.” Dogma smiled, and Tup laughed at that

Things have really started to come Dogma’s way. The best part, of course, was becoming friends with Fives and Jesse (Dogma did _not_ expect them to ever want to even look at his face again), but they were understanding and forgiving. In fact, Dogma was having a harder time forgiving himself than Fives and Jesse did. The whole thing had been a mess – they were lucky enough that Commander Cody had sent Rex a message about General Krell’s conflicting orders – his plan to pit the 212th against the 501st failed, he had been ordered to surrender by Rex himself to then be chased into the woods of Umbara; In a surprising turn of events, the treacherous general ended up being eaten alive by a hungry vixus. Case closed, and aside from the casualties sustained throughout Krell’s disastrous leadership in Umbara and the injured arm of sergeant Waxer’s, everything was fine.

Hardcase was half asleep but he still managed to groan:

“Just be careful not to end up being a turbo-slut like Jesse here.”

Tup and Fives cackled at that, and Jesse frowned at Tup.

“Don’t know why you’re laughing so hard, vod’ika, since we all know how you got your name.”

Tup’s cheeks blushed heavily, and he kicked his way into the warmth of his blankets.

“No idea what you’re talking about, Sergeant Turbo-Slut.”

Even Dogma joined the others in their laughter.

The following morning, Dogma took care of his duties with his usual perfectionism. He had even been joking around with Tup at the mess hall during lunchtime, and Jesse joined the conversation as Hardcase casually would steal a spoonful of his mashed potatoes when he wasn’t looking. Dogma was finally feeling more secure of himself, even teasing Jesse about his nickname – it was quite an improvement from how shy he was at the men he’d almost have had executed when he had just come back to the base.

* * *

Clones had all the same face. Sure, one could say that, but Dogma… Aside from the striking tattoo across his face, in a V-shape of a myriad of symbols that even went over his eyes and forehead, there was something else apart from his brothers to his voice. Soft and soothing. He was so nice too, and his smile when you asked him about his job as a trooper on your fist date…

“Everything to keep the citizens of the Republic safe, ma’am.”

You can’t wait to meet him again. The two of you have been dating for about a month now and you love him with all your heart. How not to love him, really? He’s sweet, kind, funny and absolutely adores you. It seems like his brothers will be covering over his shifts at the base for today so that the two of you will have a good time together.

You get to the bar where you two had planned to go to, wearing a dark blue dress and looking everywhere for the clone trooper’s armor; after squinting a bit you recognize him in front of the place. Dogma.  The white-and-blue clone armor is easy enough to find but even if it wasn’t, the tattoo on his face makes him stand out nonetheless as does the sharp haircut of his hair carefully pulled back, and those golden-brown eyes that just make you _melt inside_.

The way he looks around with a concerned expression makes that big, muscular soldier look like a lost puppy. You smile and wave, approaching him and he turns around to see you, and the rush of surprise-then-relief-then- _joy_ in his features make your heart skip a bit. You always imagined there was supposed to be a line between a man that is either _I-wanna-squeeze-him-cute_ or _oh- please-wreck-me-hot_ , but Dogma was goddamn waltzing all over that line. Handsome, kind and really sweet. What a catch of a man.

“Am I late?” you ask as you press a kiss to his cheek, and Dogma waves his head, kissing yours in turn

“No, I’m too early.” he looks at you and gives a shy smile “You’re even prettier than I believed to be possible, cyare.”

You laugh softly:

“You always say that! And look great yourself, Dogma.” You offer him your hand “Now let’s go inside?”

“Sure…” and dogma wraps your name in a smile like this was the only way to say it; you feel that same skipping in your heart again as he takes your hand and you walk inside.

* * *

A fun night out and many, many drinks later, you and Dogma are more or less helping each other walk all the way back up to your apartment in Coruscant, and you giggle as he helps you out of the elevator. Dogma is grinning, and the tattoo on his face bends and stretches here and there at the change the smile brings to his features, and it’s mesmerizing. 

“I think we made far too many toasts!” you laugh “‘For your promotion back to Sergeant! For the republic! For the end of the war! For the Jedi generals!’” another giggle escapes your lips “That’s why I’m hammered like this, and it’s all your fault, Dogma!”

Dogma is laughing too – well, he always does when you say his name. It’s like he’d been feeling more and more relaxed throughout the night, like something really heavy was finally off his shoulders. You know it had been tough for him since his first mission in Umbara, where you heard many lives had been lost because of a traitor General. You never asked him anything about it because he goes pale even at the mention of the dark planet, and you have so many more interesting conversations to share with him anyway.

“You didn’t have to come with me all the way back home, you know?”

And as you finally fish your keys out of your handbag, he leans on the wall next to your door, smiling at you as he still sways a little, his head hanging to the side.

“I couldn’t let you walk back home alone, a pretty woman like you shouldn’t-- ” he cuts himself off and swallows dryly, never finishing the sentence.

You get your keychain in your hand, but you don’t open the door. Instead, you walk closer to Dogma, tipping your face up to meet his beautiful brown eyes, scanning over every bit of his tattoo. You reach for his face and he leans into the touch, his eyes falling shut as he moves his head to rub his face against your hand. Still cupping his cheek, you run your thumb over his lower lip and you feel the warm, sharp exhale out of his nose over it. Your index rises to his tall cheekbone to then slide down as you move your hand to hold his chin in a delicate grip. He opens his eyes, blinking lazily as he’s in a trance, and you inch in closer, bringing your face closer to his too. You brush your lips over his – Dogma exhales sharply again, this time out of his half-open mouth, and his warm breath runs over your face – you bring your own lips over his and Dogma lets a whimper that is barely audible before he kisses you at once.

There is something to Dogma’s kiss, to how feather-light it is, to how hesitantly and slowly he wraps his hands over the small of your back, how his breath hitches when you slither your tongue into his mouth and he groans into the kiss, all soft and mellow like he’s melting under your touch. You pepper small kisses over his lips alternated with longer, deeper kisses as Dogma meets your pace, move his head to your time. You nibble at his lower lip and he lets out a small gasp; you pull away so slightly to press your forehead to his, smiling with warm, slick lips.

“Want to…?” you nod at your door “Uh, get a cup of coffee before you head back to the base or do you have to…?”

Dogma runs his hand up your back, and it makes you shiver. His voice is pleasantly lacking the stiffness and tension it had earlier, instead sounding relaxed and content.

“Tup said that if you asked this I should say yes and he’d get me an excuse later.”

You chuckle, pressing a kiss to his cheek and feeling your own cheeks going hot.

“Well, tell Tup that he’s a good man.”

“Will do…” and he says your name the same way he'd done it earlier, laced in a smile; it makes your heart skip a beat again.

* * *

When a man gets called for “coffee” after a nice, fun date, you wouldn’t expect him to actually accept the cup of coffee and share small talk about whatever stories you have to tell, but then again, Dogma is not any man, is he? He’s still laughing at your latest childhood story as you sit on your couch listening to soft, relaxing music, your shoes off and tossed carelessly on the floor by the door. You sit up, leaning over and raising a finger to his nose.

“Your tattoo” you say quietly “Can I…?”

Dogma looks at you – those brown eyes so beautiful it hurts – and he nods, closing his eyes as you run your finger over his skin, tracing the marks.

“They’re so beautiful.” You say in a soft tone as he hums under your touch “You are, I mean. So beautiful, Dogma.”

Dogma opens his eyes as you  trace your finger over his jawline now, and he turns to cup your face with both hands.

“No,” he whispers looking dreamingly into your eyes “No, you are beautiful…”

There’s reverence to the way he says your name then, and it makes your chest feel even warmer, burning hot as you lean to his touch. You smile at the song that starts playing from your device, one of your favorites.

“Dance with me?” you ask in a small voice, holding his hand and getting up

“If you’ll give me the honor.” He answers promptly getting up too

You stand in front of Dogma, guiding his hands to the back of your neck and you two sway back and forth, barely moving at all. You press a kiss to Dogma’s cheek and another to his jaw, kissing your way to the side of his neck. Dogma lets out a small groan that turns to hissing between clenched teeth. You raise your face to nibble at his ear – he hums softly, running his fingers in your hair. And you whisper close to his ear, between kisses and small, teasing bites to the side of his neck.

“I want you, Dogma.”

You pull away slowly to see him looking down, cheeks flushed red and his eyes low rising up to look at you through a curtain of dark eyelashes as he swallows and bites his lower lip. His hands slide down your neck to your shoulders and then down to wrap his fingers over your waist, sliding to your lower back – too soft, barely grasping, only ghosting over. Dogma lets out a strained, hoarse whisper that makes his voice sound almost pained:

“ _Stars_ , I’m _yours_ … And I want you too.”

You reach for his wrists, and he lets out a startled gasp as you guide them over your ribs and towards your breasts. He looks into your eyes  with the desperate helplessness like he’s asking for guidance, permission, instructions, anything to make him feel like he’s got this. You giggle softly at the blushing over his cheeks.

“Nervous?” you ask playfully

He swallows, blinking once as you run your hands now over his hair. His hands are still over you breasts, warm and perfectly still.

“A little.”

He kneads at your breasts tentatively. You bite at your lip at the feeling of his strong, big hands, a lustful sparkle in your eyes. You tip your head back and pull him into a kiss, sliding your tongue into his mouth, and he opens it invitingly, deepening the kiss more and more, sucking your lower lip into his mouth and softly nibbling at it. His hands squeeze harder at your breasts, eager thumbs hooking into the cleavage of your dress and bra reaching for your nipples, his nails grazing over the sensitive skin. You hum into his mouth, reaching to stroke a hand over his cock but you feel the codpiece on your way. You pull back a little, your nose still touching his as you whisper:

“Can’t do much for you with your armor on my way. And can you help me out of this dress, please?”

Dogma looks down at your eyes, close enough to make his golden-brown ones seem blurry, and he nods a couple of times.

“You… You want this?”

You smile playfully at Dogma.

“If I didn’t make that clear by now, I’m doing something wrong.” at that Dogma laughs nervously, and you cup his face. “Talk to me, love. I need to know what you want too.”

“Just what you’re doing right now.” he blurts out sheepishly, and you raise an eyebrow in confusion “Tell me what to do. Command me.” His face goes red at that, and he lifts his eyes up to you, coy smile on his lips “Please, whatever you say, I’ll do it.”

You bite the corner of your lip with a smirk.

“And you’ll do all as I say? Is that what you want, Dogma?” He nods in a poor attempt to hide his excitement, eyes gleaming with anticipation “Fine, but if you don’t like something I say, you have to tell me. And if you say you want to stop, or I say I want to stop, we stop and that’s final, do you understand that?”

Dogma nods again, suddenly going very serious, his soldier side showing up.

“Yes. Yes I do.”

You stroke a thumb over his face, and he leans into the touch.

“Well?” you ask in a soft voice “Won’t you get me rid of this dress as I said?”

His eyes go wide like he had forgotten it indeed, and he swallows down, reaching for the zipper on the side of your dress, slowly pulling it down, sighing out at the view of your skin under it. He pulls the straps of our dress over your shoulder, his thumb brushes only lightly over your skin, giving you goosebumps all over. Dogma cocks his head to the side as he pulls the straps down your arms, pulling the dress down and exposing the blue lace-trimmed bra you wore under it. You drink down the expression in Dogma’s golden-brown eyes, of a silent awe, his lips parted, his breath stilling in his lungs. He hooks his fingers in the fabric, tugging it down your waist until the dress drops down your legs to the floor, pooling at your feet.

Dogma pulls back a little, looking at you with wonder in his eyes like he sees a masterpiece, not only looking at your chest and naked stomach but at your collarbones; at your hands as he holds them and kiss them alternatively in a gesture that screams reverence, _adoration_. He runs his hand over your wrists, somehow managing to make it feel more intimate than when he had touched over your breasts, then your forearms, elbows, arms, shoulders, never losing the awe in his features. It’s like he’s seeing something divine turned real. His fingers graze over your collarbones down your sternum and only teasing over the edge of your bra. Still looking at his marveled eyes, you reach to his chest plate and he holds your hand, eyes wide like a scared loth-cat under speeder lights.

“You don’t have to—” he stutters, carefully pulling your hand away from his shoulder and kissing it like he’s apologizing for something “Cyare, just leave everything to me.”

Dogma unclips the upper parts of his armor, placing them on the nearby chair over which you had left your coat: shoulder guards, arms, upper arms and elbow parts too, as well as the chest and back pieces. He only wears his armor from his belt down now, and it’s a beautiful contrast, his torso exposed, dressed only on the tight-fitting blacks with the Republic’s crest on them, looking so… _human_ without the bulky white armor over it. He stands up close to you again, noticing your look down to what was left of his armor, especially his codpiece, and he smiles.

“Like I said, cyare, let me do this for you. I wanna do everything for you, if you’ll allow me, of course. I…” he raises his eyes to look deep into yours, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear “I’ll do anything you ask.”

You let out a small laugh, waving your head, trying to put an edge of command to your voice now.

“Will you, soldier? Then take your shirt off for me now.”

Dogma promptly reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one fluid motion. You bite your lip at the strong abs and protruding hipbones, as well as the shy few curled black hairs peeking out of his blacks under his belt and the few scars of past wounds, even a couple of circular blaster shot burns here and there; and you see his muscular, broad chest and as he hastily folds his shirt in to and tosses it on the chair over his armor; his eyes are all over you again, hands ghosting over your shoulder. You look into his eyes, licking your lips. He’s almost shaking in place. Did one single order get him like that?

“Touch me.” You say invitingly, and Dogma’s hands grasp your shoulders at once

“You’re so beautiful.” He says in a voice raspy with awe “So beautiful.”

He leans down to kiss your lips softly, and then lowers down to kiss your chin, tipping it up with one hand as he holds the back of your neck with the other , and he makes a linear trail of kisses over your throat, lips warm and wet, drawing a moan out of you.

“Oh, Dogma” you purr when he licks over you’re the hollow between your collarbones “This feels so good…”

Dogma rakes his nails softly over your arms as he holds them and groans at the praise, guiding you so that you can walk backwards to the couch behind you until you sit down and he sinks to his knees on the floor in front of you. Just like he stopped you before from taking off his armor, he stops you from opening your bra, guiding your hands back to the front of your body and kissing them, looking up to you with pleading in his voice.

“Anything. Ask me to do anything and I will.”

You believe you’re beginning to understand it now.

“Take off my bra. But don’t touch my breasts just yet.”

He’s promptly running his hands over your back and tucking his finger under your bra, opening it. You let it drop down your shoulders as he pulls it away little by little down your arms, and Dogma sits on his ankles in front of you, eyes still fixated on you as he leaves the piece over the sit next to you. Dogma looks at your naked breasts with new wonder, biting over his lip.

“I wanna kiss you all over.” He whispers wistfully “I wanna taste you, all of you. Can I?”

You reach to cup his face, and he almost closes his eyes at the touch, only a glimmer of gold still looking at you in aching need. You want to play with his need for command, but how to deny him the pleasure? What's more, you're _dying_ to let him taste you.

“Do it, trooper. Do it now.”

You can see the way he swallows down, like a shiver runs down his spine.

“Yes, ma’am.”

On his knees, Dogma is at eye level with your breasts, and he cups them with his hands, feeling their weight, lifting them up a little and drawing his face closer, opening his mouth wide to suck at your left breast, tongue teasing your nipple, his lips burning hot as he gives it a sloppy, wet kiss. You shiver at the cold feeling on your wet skin as he pulls away to suck at your right breast now, rubbing circles with his thumb over your other still wet nipple. You whimper and your breathing grows shallow, Dogma’s name escaping your lips in small moans, and he sucks harder, hungrily as he hears it, turning to peppering small kisses all over your breasts and nibbling at your stiff nipples.

“You’re so soft.” He groans between sloppy kisses “Smell so good. Stars, you’re perfect.”

Watching Dogma’s wet lips sucking on your skin like his life depended on it kneeled down in front of you in a display of sheer adoration sure is doing something for you and this “something” is seeping through your panties by now. He pulls back a little, his breathing shallow as he raises his golden eyes at you through his lashes, swallowing down. His chin and lips are glistening wet with spit and his hands fondle you breasts softly, teasing your nipples still.

“Does it feel good, cyare? Do you like this?”

“So good.” you say, smiling down to him, petting his hair “You’re so good to me, my beautiful Dogma.”

Dogma’s eyes fall shut for a moment as he draws in a deep breath and hums, as if he’s soaking in your words. You drag your hands over his face, cupping it and stroking your thumbs over his tall cheekbones, your eyes mesmerized by the large tattoo across his face, the full design of it perfectly visible now that his eyes were closed; he still kneads your breasts, spreading his fingers, trying to take all of them in his hands and reopening his eyes to look at you, clearly seeking your approval. You slide your hand down Dogma’s jaw, running your thumb over his lower lip and lightly pushing it down. Dogma slowly opens up his mouth and you push your thumb between his parted lips, past his teeth and over his tongue. He wraps his lips around your thumb, sucking on it avidly, his warm tongue softly pressing your nail against the roof of his mouth. He reopens his eyes looking up to you and blinking lazily. When you slowly pull you finger out of his mouth, he whines like he misses it already. You smile at him, taking your spit-slick thumb to your own mouth and licking it over, tasting his spit and looking down in time to notice the growing bulge in his pants.

“Wanna taste more of you” he whines, almost like a pained begging “Please, cyare…”

You want to tease him, tell him to wait, but.. how? The look upon those golden-brown eyes, of aching need, is killing you.

“Touch me, trooper.” you run a hand over his hair “Please me.”

His hands slide down over your stomach, golden-brown eyes looking at you with the same adoration. He runs his hands up and down your legs like he’d never really seen them, kissing your shins alternately as he goes up, still looking up to you.

“So pretty.” He says between kisses “How can you be so pretty?”

He moves up to your knees, soft kisses that get consistently wet as he licks his lips between every two or three kisses, going up to your knees. He looks up to you, golden eyes earnest and needy.

“May I have you lie back a little, cyare? I wanna make something really good for you.”

The craving in his voice, the promise in his words, it makes a shiver run down your spine as you pull your legs up to the bed and lie down, your heart racing, heat pooling in your stomach. You ease your hips a little farther on the seat, leaning down on the back of the couch. Dogma gets back up on his knees, placing his hands over your own knees and slowly pushing them apart as he kisses the inside of your thighs up to your crotch and up to your stomach. He hooks his fingers in your panties, playfully tugging at them.

“May I?” he says, sheepish voice and eyes innocently looking up at you

You look down at him with a smirk that is all but innocent.

“You’re not asking properly, Dogma. ‘May I’ is not a full request. What do you want from me?”

Dogma blinks, biting over his lip.

“I’m sorry, may I... May I take off your panties?”

Your smile widens. You’re not gonna make this easy for him.

“What for? Say it, trooper.”

He swallows down, blinking twice again, red flush spreading over his cheeks.

“So that I can taste and lick you, ma’am. So that I can eat you out the best way I can manage to, push my tongue deep inside you, suck at your clit.” He raises his face to you with his breath uneven, swallowing down again, blushing even further “This is what I’m asking for. Will you allow it?”

And hells, that get you positively soaked even as you try and keep your face calm and collected at some level. Dogma has a surprisingly dirty mouth and you can’t wait to feel it on you. You had been meaning to stall some more so that you could enjoy his eagerness some more but to the hells with it. You need this now.

“You have my permission, Dogma.” and damn, you didn’t sound calm as you meant to. Your voice is shaking with anticipation.

He reaches to pull your panties down. He’s kissing his way back down your legs as he does so, and you whimper in need. He had been so close when he was kissing your crotch...

Dogma seems to be having fun with your eagerness himself, kissing the inside of one of your thighs and licking a slow trail halfway up with a shy smile as he licks his fingers to make them slick, his hand going up to your pussy, thumb pressing softly against your clit as you gasp in surprise. He rolls small circles on it, kissing his way up to your other thigh now.

“Feels good?” he asks in a whisper, bringing his face closer to your pussy and biting his lip as he looks at you through his lashes “Oh, mesh'la, allow me to make it feel even better, okay?”

Dogma wraps his fingers on your thighs, pushing them up with his palms, keeping your legs spread as he licks over your clit. His tongue is so hot and wet it feels like you’re melting as he gives small kitten licks over your wet entrance and your clit, his thumbs gently pulling your lips open to make it easier for him to access it and lick you.

Then he presses his lips to your hole, kissing, sucking and licking avidly at it, tongue pushing and swirling inside, prying a loud moan out of you as his nose brushes against your sensitive clit. He eats you out in a desperate hunger, small thrumming noise out of his throat vibrating against your skin. Your mouth drops open, your breath growing shallow, your chest rising and falling in your pleasure. You can feel your heart race and your face burning hot as you look down to see his tattooed face between your legs, golden-brown eyes looking up at you through his lashes full of an innocence that doesn’t match how deep his tongue slithers inside you, licking, teasing.

Dogma quickly sucks at his thumb to make it slick again and reaches to your clit, pressing circling motions over it as he eats you out, sucking and drinking at the moisture out of you like he’s thirsty for it. You buck your hips and whine, reach a shaking hand to his head, caressing his hair erratically, unable to do it properly in your haze of pleasure as Dogma hums against your skin.

“I can’t… Dogma…” you gasp out, grabbing at the edge of the couch, heat pooling in your chest, your breath shallow.

It feels so good, too good, and Dogma opens his mouth wider so that he can suck at your clit and still have his tongue inside you; It makes you scream out, digging your heels on his back, reaching your hands out and holding his head down on you. He moans against your skin like he’s been craving your dominance. He licks you even deeper, sharp stabs of his tongue inside you as his thumb is back to rubbing circles on your clit, teasing it mercilessly. You moan out loud, feeling the pleasure bubble up in your chest until it overflows, and you buck your hips, spasms shaking your legs hooked over his shoulders, your fingers curling and tugging at Dogma’s hair; He doesn’t stop licking and sucking at you for a single second, like he wishes to milk every lest drop of you and savor it. You don’t even notice how low you’ve slumped down the couch as you came, only your shoulder blades still somewhat on the back of it, the rest of your body resting awkwardly on the seat.

Dogma pulls back, his chin glistening with wetness as he licks his reddened, swollen lips and looking at you with blown-out eyes full of awe. He looks like a man praising a deity, ready to give his heart and soul for it. It’s not a blank look of servitude - it’s a committed will to give you anything you ask and more because nothing would please him as much as seeing you pleased.

You’re still struggling to settle your breathing as you sit up, Dogma still kneeling in front of you with his wet lips parted, need and anticipation spreading on his tattooed features.

“What are your orders, my cyare?” he breaths out with a hint of desperation, like he needs it needs to service and please you more, and you’re finally catching your breath for good.

“On your feet.” You order with your voice still a little hoarse, and Dogma is fast to comply, looking in your eyes with anticipation “Take your armor and pants off, dear. Want you bare for me.”

Dogma’s cheeks are flushed red as he begins freeing himself from his armor, relief spreading through his face as at his unclipping of his codpiece, and you watch mesmerized as he removes the plastoid plates one by one, less a trooper and more a man now, only in his pants. He hooks his thumbs on the waist of his blacks, pulling them down along his greys; it isn’t cheating – you did ask for him bare. His hard cock springs free out of them as he unceremoniously kicks his blacks and greys down his legs and off his feet. He stands in attention like the soldier he is, waiting for your next order, his breathing shallow and his eyes blinking a little nervously. It’s like he feels being evaluated, and you’re his superior officer. It’s almost cute, and you smirk again at that as you get to your feet, pretending you’re not still weak at your knees.

You trace the length of his cock with the tip of a nail, fighting off your need for actually touching it, to wrap your fingers around it and feel it in your hand, hot and hard and pulsating. For Dogma, you make an effort to keep your face level, to still dominate and tease him, and he shudders, eyes going wide and a small sound escaping him. His cock looks beautiful, the tip flushed red and leaking his precome, veins popping out over his shaft, so hard it’s pressed to the dark curls over his stomach. Dogma is strong and muscular, but on the leaner side, sharp hipbones jutting under his skin, as his ribs of which outlines you can see every time he huffs in a breath.

You lean closer, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, running your nail up and down his length so softly he must be barely feeling it, and desperate to feel more.

“You are so beautiful, Dogma. So beautiful. Sit down on the couch now.”

Dogma turns to you sharply, seeming confused.

“Cyare, I’m supposed to please you, not…”

“I gave you an order, trooper.” You cut him off; you had been expecting him to object to the idea of sitting down “I want to ride you until my legs tire out, and you will sit down and take it, do you understand it?”

A sharp exhale escapes Dogma, and he’s stuttering now, swallowing hard, cock twitching under your soft almost nonexistent touch. His cheeks are flushed red and his voice is small now.

“…Oh. Yes, _stars,_ yes I do.”

“Sit down, my love.” You murmur against his skin, nibbling at it “That’s an order.”

He’s keening at that, and as you pull back he’s immediately stepping to the couch and plopping down on it, cock in his hand and head tipped back to look up to you, biting his lip and breathing even harder in his craving to have you, but he dares not rush you. You smile at him, all teeth like a predator, threatening, and he gives you a shaky smile back, as he knows he’s your prey and can’t wait to be taken.

You lean over him, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you climb on top pf him, knees spread apart on each side of his hips but you don’t allow him to enter you just yet, sitting on his lap instead, and he keens. You can see in his golden eyes he’s _desperate_ to fuck you - as much as you are to allow him to do it, but you don’t let it show, keeping your face unnervingly calm as you raises a hand to push your fingers between his lips.

“Lick.” you order dryly “Want your spit.”

And he complies beautifully, sucking two, three of your fingers in his mouth and coating them on his saliva, sloppy wet sounds out of his lips. You pull your fingers back as he’s still sucking on them, a wet _pop_ noise following it. You wrap your wet fingers on his cock and he whimpers as you spread the wetness all over his head and shaft, thumb teasing at his slick head, mingling his spit and precome together. He moans, bucking his hips on impulse and you click your tongue in mock-nuisance.

“Quiet now. Stand still until I’m done.”

Craving your touch as he’d been so far, he stifles back a sob, pressing his lips in a thin line as you jerk him off in deliberately slow strokes. He’s shaking under you, all of him in pent up, desperate _need_.

“Do you want me, Dogma?” you tease

The strong muscles on his neck are pulled taut, and his features are twisted in flushed craving.

“Yes please, cyare, want you, need you, _givemeplease”_ he’s babbling, as immobile as he can make himself, hands dropped down on the couch, hips jerking in aborted half-thrusts into your hand

You take pity on him at last, leaning closer as you get back up to your knees, guiding him inside you as you sink down on him painfully slowly. Wet as you are, you could’ve just let him in with one thrust, but you want to make it last.

You let out small moans at his intrusion, sinking down more and more on him, as Dogma tips his head back and gasps, shuddering. You don’t stop until he’s fully sheathed inside you, and you grind against him when he is at last.

“Mmm” you whimper, throwing your arms over his shoulder, whispering close to his ear “You feel so good, Dogma…”

“P-Permisson to touch you?” he begs, somehow abiding to your orders to stand still, although his legs are giving sharp jerks

“Granted.” You say in a shaky breath

And Dogma wraps his arms around you pulling you close, his hand over your lower back moving to your hip on a grasp hard enough to bruise as he pushes you down on him, moaning between clenched teeth and kissing the hollow of your throat, husky whisper of begging to all the stars above.

You pull back up, on your knees, pulling yourself halfway off him to then sink down once again, and Dogma is mouthing at your neck, biting down enough so it hurts just the right amount, and you whimper, your fingers buried in his hair as you kiss his cheek, his earlobe, his neck, you pull back to kiss his soft lips, grinding your hips on him, sitting down on his hard cock with sharp thrusts, fucking yourself on him in a hungry need like you had been the one to be teased all this time rather than him. Every jab of him inside of you makes you gasp and shudder, and you _cravewantneed_ more. You find a good position for your knees at last, one  that allows you to sink all the way down and push yourself halfway back up to sink down again, and you rock your hips slowly, feeling his head push your folds open going in and its rim dragging over them on his way out. You arch your back, bouncing on Dogma and moaning loudly, obscenely. Dogma cups your breasts so hard you feel the outline of his fingers being branded on you in angry red lines, and he sucks on them alternatively.

“Ner’ori haalas…” He hisses against your skin between strained moans as you ride him hard and fast, and he bites a mark around your nipple, his hands sinking in your skin as he grabs your arms, your shoulders, whatever he can to force you down deeper on his cock, whining “You’re so damn beautiful, cyare… Give me more, plase!”

Dogma looks so hungry for more, for _you,_ and what choice do you have but complying, fucking yourself harder on him, sitting on his cock with faster, sharper thrusts of your hips. Dogma lowers his hands to your ass, helping you up and letting you down in time with the way you move, making it even easier, effortless for you. His eyes are rolling back and falling shut under his pleasure, and you claim his mouth into a deep, sloppy kiss, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and biting hard. He moans into your mouth, his hands pushing your cheeks apart and sinking you down even deeper on him. The heat inside you is fire now, and you feel even tighter around his cock, aching for release every time you sink down on him.

“Gonna come…” you say in a helpless moan looking at his eyes, golden pupils blown huge and hazy pleasure clouding them “I’m gonna come, my love…”

Dogma licks his middle finger, pushing his hand between the two of you and reaching for your clit, rubbing circles on it, making your toes curl in pleasure as you sigh breathlessly.

“Kyriam’ika” he says in a whisper along your name with a wide, victorious grin on his face, and you don’t know what the word means but the way he says it sends shivers down your spine

You buck your hips harder and harder, screaming out Dogma’s name in a strained cry as you feel your orgasm tearing you apart, waves of pleasure rippling through every inch of you, your walls squeezing dogma tight. Dogma wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer and gasping, his face buried in your breasts.

“Mesh’la cyare, m’gonna come—”

You can feel his hot release inside you in spurts while he thrusts still, and it extends your own pleasure even further, knowing that it’s _Dogma_ , that he’s filling you up inside, making you his. You are still grinding your hips slowly as the two of you ride the last waves of your pleasure, then you slump down on top of him, exhausted. Dogma still has his arms wrapped around your waist and you just stay like this for a while, catching up your breath and feeling pleasantly sore and sated. After a while, you let out a small groan as his cock softens, slipping out of you. Some of his release drips out of you on the couch and you make a hazy mental note to clean it later, if you ever stop feeling so boneless.

“We should… shower maybe?”

Dogma’s face is pressed to your chest, and he murmurs.

“Hmm. No. Wanna stay like this.”

“Maybe go to bed?”

“Hm. Nope.”

You laugh, pulling back a little to look down at him.

“What do you wanna do then?”

Dogma tips his head back to kiss you.

“Stay like this forever would be a good start. Now, wrap your arms behind my neck and hold tight. I’ll carry you to bed.” he gives you a sheepish smile “Do you mind showering tomorrow morning instead?”

You do as he tells, and Dogma supports you by your ass to carry you to the bedroom, walking carefully there until he can safely plop you, and himself, to your bed.

“Depends.” you say with a wide grin “Do you mind giving me another reason to shower when we wake up tomorrow morning?”

Despite being lied down beside you, entirely naked and with his release still trailing down your thighs out of you, Dogma blushes to then nod.

“Sure, cyare. Everything you want and more.” He pulls you close to himself and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. You smile wrapped in warm, hazy pleasure still, and drifts off to sleep into his arms without even noticing it.


End file.
